Almost
by Feed The Wrong Wolf
Summary: 'The sky would break for her, and so would everything else.' *TEASER/PROLOGUE* Soon to be long as hell, many chapters, Azula-centric. DARK. Aptly named...'Almost' will never be good enough, you guys.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a teaser for a fic I've been working on for a few months, now. I recently remembered what a profound impact Azula had on my life as a child near her age, and thus, a monstrosity was born in my (technically) adult mind.**

 **Full story currently a pathetic work in progress, though I assure you, it commands an unhealthy amount of my time and mental energy. If things go my way, the first chapter will be up by the end of the year. Actual story will be almost 100% from Azula's point of view, beginning shortly before Zuko is banished. Will be very,** ** _very_** **dark, rated M. My goal is to ruin your day a little bit. :)**

 **This is a short little thing, and to me, kinda shitty. Forgive any and all errors I may have made, as I haven't used this website/attended school in nearly a decade...And try to enjoy the blatant foreshadowing.**

 **I can say with confidence, though, that the real thing will be vastly more impressive.**

 **Please let me know what you think! Enjoy!**

As she opened her eyes, her mind refusing to clear, Ursa saw the rain spattering onto the fogged window to her right. With nothing else to do but breathe, she watched. Everything in the room seemed to be stained grey, the rising sun unable to penetrate the storm clouds that lingered, save for a ray of light here and there. Her vision swam, but she was certain that the courtyard had been flooded. She thought, vaguely, of the pond - the turtle ducks would have been frightened by the thunder and lightning. Even now, nearly halfway through autumn, the Fire Nation rarely saw such violent storms.

Before she could move to sit up in her bed, the dull pain swept over her in an instant. Her entire body was far too weak, and she felt as if it were growing weaker still with each passing second. While she struggled to move, her legs stuck to the silk of the sheets, and she sighed with the effort. Her hair stuck to the side of her pallid face, more sweat forming on her brow, despite the chill of the passing storm. Looking away from the window, taking in the rest of the room, she saw a pitcher of water on the stand left of the bed. Knowing she would be unable to reach for it herself, she looked past it to search for a servant. One surely would be with her, now.

Instead, as her blurry vision began to regulate, she noticed a figure in the chair near the door, across the small room. Smiling weakly, she saw her husband asleep, the newborn in his arms.

"Ozai," she called, the strength her voice held surprising her.

Almost instantly his eyes were opening, and he took a deep breath before righting himself, looking down at the bundle in his arms. His smile was almost as sleepless as her own. She watched as he stood slowly, careful not to disturb the child, and made his way to her. He sat on the bed beside her, his eyes shining, never diverted from the face peeking out of the blanket.

Ursa had long ago forgotten the water and the pain and the memories of the agonizing delivery. She had to hold her, had to see her daughter. Remembering the servant who had come when she screamed out upon waking in the night - unaware of what had happened after she finally delivered - a rush of excitement came over her, drowning everything else out. The woman told her of her beautiful baby girl, healthy and loud…Ursa had fallen unconscious before she could hold her, having lost a great deal of blood…

"Let me…" she began, her weakened arms reaching out.

The sound woke the baby, golden eyes bleary, displeased. She struggled in the captivity of her blanket, protesting weakly as Ozai shifted to move her. By the time Ursa finally held her securely, a series of wails had begun, her little arms now wriggled free, reaching out for her father again.

The servant had been wrong - she wasn't beautiful, she was _breathtaking_. Ursa's heart was struck almost violently with an old emotion, so similar and yet so different from when she had first held Zuko. A daughter of her own, the way she'd always imagined. Happiness overwhelmed her as the daylight filtered in through the window, the infant abandoning her futile struggle in favor of settling back down, looking up into her mother's eyes.

"Her name is Azula," Ozai said softly, though his voice filled the room. His words seemed to put an end completely to the baby's lingering agitation.

"For your father," Ursa acknowledged, her grin returning at the sound of the name. "It's beautiful."

She watched as her child gazed around blankly, seeming fixated on the window herself, seeing the sun breaking the clouds apart at last. Ursa remembered the start of her labor, the storm having just begun outside, and wanted to laugh.

"I was worried the rain was some kind of forewarning…" she began, stroking the small tuft of dark hair on her daughter's head. "As if it would mean bad luck for her." She laughed tiredly, her seemingly permanent smile growing.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Ozai murmured, and she looked to him again. He was still watching the child, seeming to be considering his own statement. His eyes were bloodshot, and she realized that he must have been asleep at the door all night, probably since the Fire Sages had blessed the child.

Just as Ursa's arms were becoming too weary to hold her anymore, the baby - _Azula_ \- began to cry again. Ozai took her into his own arms once more, and when he smiled down to her, the fussing all but ended. The kicks and cries stilled as Ursa watched them, and when the newborn saw her father, she settled down once more.

Abruptly, the pain returned, and Ursa had to close her eyes. What lucidity she'd had moments ago began to drift off to someplace she couldn't quite reach, and she carefully adjusted herself back into the pillows.

Birthing Zuko had been nowhere near this strenuous.

"She is so like you, my dear," Ozai said quietly, and she could hear that he was still grinning.

Too tired to acknowledge how true it seemed to be, she sighed, her eyes remaining closed, perfectly content.

-

Many months later, even in the sunshine, Ursa thought of this moment and felt the dread of that storm once more. Watching young, exuberant Zuko stand to reach up to his baby sister, and looking down to little Azula happy in her arms… She realized that while their daughter may certainly possess a resemblance to Ursa herself, she had undoubtedly inherited Ozai's smile.

 **See what I did there, though?! EH?**

 **This is the first thing I've written in nearly five years. Not my first fanfiction. I very much hope that one of you,** ** _somewhere_** **, will be down with this shit.**

 **I also hope you forgive my vulgar language. There will be plenty of it in the author's notes, I'm sure.**

 **The song I associate with this particular piece, and the whole story, in fact, is Drugs Exist by HEALTH - if anyone is into that sort of thing.**

 **Once again, please let me know what you think, and/or if you happen to look forward to what I've been brewing!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright, fuck it - here's another teaser, taken from my submission for Azula Week 2017 - Day Five - Throne, over on tumblr.**

 **Originally written before the entire thing began, as a very short drabble - spruced up specially for the public eye. Featuring a young Azula discovering the meaning of life! (yikes)**

 **This is even shorter and worse than the first teaser, but I promise the real thing will be here eventually! Bear with me, you guys...**

Azula had been snaking her way through the various courtyards and hallways of the palace, managing to evade the day's batch of nursemaids. They'd largely remained in the main courtyard, where she had first crept away, much to her own delight. She'd done this many times before, gaining a bad reputation with the servants - but was it _really_ her fault that they were punished when they'd been the ones to lose track of her in the first place? Even if her mother reprimanded her each time she'd been found, she wouldn't dream of giving up. She was hardly content to be stuck chasing her big brother around on the grass, or pestering the turtle ducks in the pond.

So, she'd wait for a good distraction and slip away, using trees and bushes as cover, but each time still managed to be new in some way, and each time was still just a little scary.

It was an odd hour in the early evening; the sun hadn't yet gone down, and the servants hadn't yet lit the countless torches along the walls. The near darkness added to her cover while she carefully and quickly maneuvered around corners, the guards never having any inkling of what that odd shadow was, or if they had truly seen it at all. Finally, when she pushed through heavy curtains the color of blood, she had reached her destination. It was massive, more so in the dark, or so it seemed. Azula stilled her nerves as well as a shiver, summoning a small orange flame in her right hand. She grinned, satisfied. This sight would never grow old.

Along the walls hung the collection of colossal tapestries, some old and some new, of the Fire Lords past and present. Her fire cast a glow onto the gold of the pillars, further illuminating the room and all that it held. Breathing calmly, soothed by the knowledge that she was alone, she found her usual spot in the center of the display. She curled her little legs and sat down on the long, plush rug, letting her back rest against the cool wooden wall. She let her eyes rake over the images, perfectly content to spend the rest of her days in this very place. Azula didn't like much of the art her mother tried to expose her to, but this place was different. Taking in the colors and lines and the stories they told…Each and every one had its own type of beauty, its charge standing righteously, all of their eyes following her wherever she went. Scenarios of an age long gone, the ambitions of these men and women brought about with their own two hands.

She hated to think of herself as biased in the matter, but her favorite had always been that of her great-grandfather, Fire Lord Sozin. Her mother says he left this world before she'd even been born, but she wished she could have known him. His tapestry portrayed the comet named for him blazing above his head, the earth burning beneath him. His golden eyes, just like hers, and her father's and grandfather's, seemed to burn as well, maybe even more brightly.

She couldn't contain a small, derisive laugh when she thought of her brother - Poor, dumb Zuzu. He'd always idolized the heroes in the stories their mother would read to them, in fairy-tales. Some dull, thoughtless protagonist, always on the same mission to rescue one damsel or another. Looking at these images, she just couldn't fathom the appeal to that sort of life. Everyone around her seemed to fall victim to that sort of spell: Ty Lee and all of her admirers at school, the stupid way that Mai looked at Zuko…

Azula decided right then and there - No glory would be found in _love_. No glory in tall tales, or immaturity, or weakness. Firebending, strategies, the Fire Nation itself…Victory, and success, and power. That's what made sense. That was what Azula wanted.

Perhaps, if the Fire Nation wished to remain glorious, she would one day sit upon the throne, her own flames tracing the border between her and the rest of the world. Perhaps one day, her own image, an adult incarnation standing tall with the world at her feet, would grace this very hall.


End file.
